


Dying in L.A.

by tsundanire



Series: Dying in LA [1 & 2] [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Addiction, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Neville mentioned in passing, inspired by A Star is Born
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-02-27 05:31:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsundanire/pseuds/tsundanire
Summary: After the war, Harry loses all sense of purpose. He travels the world aimlessly, from one spot to the next, chasing a high that never lasts. When the morning comes all that's left is a pounding head, and a foul taste in his mouth. Until he stumbles into a bar in L.A., where his past and present collide.





	Dying in L.A.

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place a little bit after the war, and takes inspiration in places from the movie A star is born. The title [and the song Draco sings at the beginning] is taken from Panic! At the Disco [Pray for the wicked album]. 
> 
> Thanks to my Alphas: F and J; as well as my Betas: C and S. This story would never have gotten done without you guys. Extra kudos to L and F for the cheerleading because we all know my sorry ass needed it. 
> 
> Finally, this story is split into two parts, though part one could be considered complete on it's own [If you don't mind an angsty/open ending] Because of the nature of the story, and the nature of recovery, I wanted to take more time with the second part to ensure it was tackling the issue with care. I hope you guys enjoy <3

## \- 1 -

  
  


The crowd was both vibrant and loud. Although the house lights were off, the mobiles and other lights from the fans in the stadium lit the darkness like twinkling stars in the vast expansive universe.

Harry hung back in the wings, away from the mainstage while still keeping it in view. Draco sat at the massive black Grand Piano the crew had wheeled out for the finale. He was like an angel, bathed in the white stages lights, glowing spotlights, and the lights of thousands of amorous eyes on him.

The last show of his tour was an astounding success, if they were judging the cacophonous crowd screaming at him for more. From here, Harry could see the glistening sweat dripping from every inch of that perfect shirtless frame. It was amusing to him, that at the end of every show, Draco had managed to strip out of most of his clothes, which made it hard to say if it was the music, or his body, that kept the enraptured attention of the fans.

Draco’s smile was dazzling, charming the vast sea of entranced faces in the audience. They chanted his name over and over, as if Draco were a Siren, and they under his lustful spell. Harry understood that feeling quite well. He too was wrapped in Draco’s spell, but looking back on how far they’d come, Harry wouldn’t have had it any other way.

## *~*~*

The wickedly sinful darkness of the club was ephemeral. One step out the doors would bring reality crashing back into anyone with a cold blast of air. At least inside, the packed throng of bodies on the dancefloor kept heat tantalizingly close at all times - while the bright flashing lights, and the fluidity of the music swirled around Harry, keeping him bouncing on the high fueled by the lethal combination of some tangy shots the group kept buying him, and some nifty little pill he’d purchased from a guy in the loo.

 _We’re going on one tonight!_ The dealer had said to him, before they slammed together in a heated snog. Harry had gone with it, the high already starting to numb him enough to stop thinking, to stop giving any shits. Instead, he allowed himself to be seduced by the music, taking anything anyone handed him, be it a drink, a hand, even a casual brush of lips. It didn’t matter who they belonged to. Anything here was better than another night by himself, in the emptiness of Grimmauld, surrounded by the ghosts of the past.

Everyone had found their path after the war; they’d managed to carry their lives forward. But not Harry. It felt like he was one of the dead as well, just a ghost trapped in a fleshy carcass, lingering in the places he’d lived like a spirit that couldn’t move on.

Many of his friends tried to get him involved in their lives, hoping that by bringing him into their sunshine, he’d be able to walk out of the shadows and move forward. He’d faked it for them, but now it was just too exhausting. He’d become dependant on chasing the high he could only get here in order to function during the light of day.

But even _that_ had started to catch up with his real life, which brought Harry’s mind back to stepping outside again. The moment he left the club, the numbness he’d enjoyed for the last few hours would fade, and he’d begin to sober up, taking back on the weight of all the  responsibilities resting on the “Saviour’s” shoulders.

“So why do you stay then?” A voice tugged him back to the present, reminding Harry that he was still blissfully drifting on a high but he probably ought to tuck himself back in his pants - which his current bathroom companion was currently doing.

“I guess, I don’t really have _one_ reason? It’s just a bunch of little ones. I have family here, sort of.” Harry started to wash his hands in the sink while the twink he’d just fucked sat on the counter, legs dangling childishly.

“So, I dunno. You don’t have to listen to me about this stuff, but it sounds like you need a fresh view on shit.”

Harry shrugged, but it wasn’t like the guy was wrong. “I suppose. But I don’t know that a vacation is going to be enough.”

“I’m not talking vacation. When shit started going down with my family, after I came out, I realised that I was only staying for my sister. But she’s nineteen and more than capable of looking after herself. So I packed up and got the fuck out of there. I’m not saying it has to be forever, but just, think about what is keeping you tied here. If you really think about it and can honestly say your friends and family absolutely need you to stay - then stay.” The blond eyed him curiously.

“But if you can look at your relationships and admit to yourself that they can survive without your immediate presence, then maybe go on an adventure. Take time for yourself. Learn about you.”

Harry nodded, but his brain was still pretty fogged out by the drugs. He’d give it more serious thought tomorrow, or the day after. Maybe if he ever sobered up again.

“Got that out of your system now?” Harry smirked and stepped in between the twink’s legs.

“Oof! Ready to go again already?” He laughed and wrapped his legs around Harry’s waist, grinding himself into the hardness found there.

“I’m always ready.” Harry waggled his brows. “Besides, I still have a nice high and I’d like to stay that way for a while at least.”

“Yours or mine then?”

Harry rolled his eyes and grasped the male by the hips, then apparated them right into Harry’s bedroom at Grimmauld Place.

## *~*~*

 

_3 Months later..._

 

When morning arrived, it came with a mouth full of cotton, and a pounding head that felt split open. Harry groaned and burrowed his face into the plush pillow, trying to recall the events of the previous night.

He had the fading memory of the boy from months ago, telling him to move on from his friends and family - and he’d done exactly that. Within the week he’d visited everyone he knew, said his goodbyes and never looked back.

The sun burned bright through the tiny slit in the curtains, and yet, somehow, it still managed to find Harry’s face and burn through his eyelids. With a hiss, he rolled over, smooshing his face into his pillow - hoping that maybe he could stop his brain from functioning properly, allowing him to head back to bed.

But luck was not on his side - as was par for the course lately. Stretching his limbs out, Harry took a moment to ponder where he was.

He’d managed to travel to a different city almost every day, or every other day depending on how hard the party had been the night before. At some point, Harry had joined in with a band finishing up their EU tour, and headed back to the states to finish off in LA - which was how he’d ended up sprawled in the hotel, arse up and completely naked.

The high had long since faded, leaving only misery, the desperate need for a cigarette, and the body ache that came with having spent the night partying and fucking. Groaning, Harry kicked the rest of the covers off, and slid one leg to the floor. He’d hoped if he moved in a sloth-like fashion, then maybe… just maybe, he could stay half asleep for as long as possible.

“OI! Potter! Get your bloody arse out of bed, ya specky git!”

The overly excited, booming voice of the tour manager, Tannis, filled the room - startling Harry so much that he jolted and fell the rest of the way out of bed - regardless of how hard he’d clung to the sheets.

Disgruntled, and thoroughly unamused, Harry reached up and launched a pillow at Tannis.

“Fuck off. Too early for your shit.” His voice sounded much like gravel being run through a wood chopper - if gravel could be snarky.

Tannis laughed, catching the pillow with an ease that came from being both sober and actually awake. Harry hated him.

“Come on now Potter. You had a hell of a night. But, I gotta get the mates set up for sound check at the stadium, and if they don’t see your gorgeous face first thing - they tend to be a bit unmotivated.”

“Yeah Yeah. I’ll vacate. Just, gimme a second to wash my face. Christ.” Harry grumbled, stumbling to the bathroom with no regard for his current state of nudity. Course, if Tannis had any issue with it, he probably shouldn’t have come barging in.

Not bothering with a full rinse just yet, Harry quickly washed his face and brushed away the acrid taste of the night before from his mouth. It took another five minutes to source all his clothing and get dressed, but all-in-all it took a total of 15 minutes for him to be out the door of the suite and rejoined with the rest of the band.

A chorus of “Aaaaaaye” filled the air as everyone cheered Harry’s rally. They all looked about as rough as he did, but were about a thousand times more functional than he was, which was either because they’d had copious amounts of coffee - though this was least likely, since dairy was banned on sound check and rehearsal days - OR Tannis had gotten them up hours ago and made sure they’d be functional by the time they’d have to pile into the van together.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, but gave them all a half-hearted wave while someone pressed a hot cup of coffee in his hands. At least they knew him well enough now to have something already ready. It made him smile, knowing this rag-tag group cared so much for someone they barely knew. They were his road family, and Harry truly treasured every moment with them, as much as he treasured his family in the UK. But this was a new chapter in his life, and these boys deserved as much love from him as he’d given Ron and Hermione.

“You fuckwads ready for sound?” Harry grumbled into his cup.

Haps - their drummer - rolled his eyes, fingers and legs never staying still for more than a minute, though Harry could never be sure if that was because of his rambunctious personality, or the drugs he’d usually sneak before shows.

“‘Course we’re ready pipsqueak.” Haps grinned, tossing a scone at Harry’s face.

With his Seeker reflexes, Harry caught the scone and narrowed his eyes, hating that the drummer was an easy 6’3.

“Then why the fuck aren’t you lot in the van yet?”

“Tannis told us to wait for you,” came a gentle voice at his side. Harry looked over with an affectionate smile, seeing Albion curled in the one recliner in the room. That man had the voice of a Rock God, but the personality of a domestic cat. Harry had the scratch marks on his back to prove it.

“Mmm. About that, I’m not gonna come to sound with you guys this time. I have some errands I need to run while I’m in town, so you guys go on and I’ll catch up backstage later tonight, yeah?”

There were a few grumbles, but this wasn’t the first time Harry had randomly skived off to find something else to do while in town. Perhaps it came from his feelings of being separate from the band, even they always made sure to make him feel included. He tried not to think about it too much, but there were times when Harry felt like once again, he was on a different path than the people he hung out with.

Still, as Harry slipped into the dim bar he’d heard about the day before, there was nothing that could have prepared him for how much his life was about to change.

“Gentle folks, please put your paws together for… Drake Malloy!”

 

## \- 2 -

 

“Hey, thanks mates!” Draco waved from his spot at the piano. And while his name might be marginally different, there was not a single doubt in Harry’s mind - short of a polyjuice’d double- that this was Draco Malfoy.

The blond had filled out a bit since the war, giving him a bit more tone in the arms and a bit more flesh to his jaw. As he spoke to the audience, the haughty accent was still very much present, but Harry wondered how much of it was really just for show these days - a character that Malfoy had chosen to portray to entice the audience, rather than actually part of who he was.

There were lewd jokes about anything and everything that Malfoy could think of, riffing off the audience as well a bit, until the moment his storm grey eyes connected with Harry’s moss green.

“Well, well, well. An old acquaintance.” Malfoy raised the glass of water that sat atop his piano and toasted Harry before taking a swig and placing it back down, diving his fingers into the keys in a startling melody.

Harry sat stunned, wondering what all that was supposed to mean, if it even meant anything at all. As Malfoy started a melody, Harry was surprised by how at peace he seemed with his lot in life.

He sang of the changes he’d made, and what Harry assumed was his move to LA. He sang for his Mother, and while the overall tone of the song was cheerful, Harry couldn’t help but feel there was an undercurrent of something darker lurking beneath the surface of the song. Not at all because he thought Malfoy was up to something, but because Harry knew all too well how to hide everything he was feeling beneath a layer of fake cheer.

It was a mask he’d become so accustomed to wearing he’d almost forgotten what his real self was feeling.

The thing that surprised Harry the most, however, was how good Malfoy actually was. His voice was classically trained, or so it appeared, and sat somewhere around the tenor range - though there were dips in the song that proved he could hit a much lower range when needed.

The bartender refilled his drink, which he opted to nurse this time, rather than shooting it down his throat in one go.

By the time Malfoy’s set was over, Harry finally had a pleasant buzz going. He stayed in his spot waiting and wondering if maybe he should go, when a familiar voice pulled his attention to the seat next to him.

“I can’t even imagine where to begin asking you what the bloody hell you’re doing here, Potter.”

Harry tilted his head with amusement towards the annoyed tone.

“Don’t get it in your head that I’m here for _you._ Just a coincidence.”

Malfoy frowned as if he didn’t believe that at all, but signalled the bartender - who brought over what Harry assumed must have been his usual.

“So then, if it’s just a coincidence, care to tell me what actually brought you to _this_ establishment? I didn’t take gay bars to be your thing…”

“You’ve been out of London for a long time mate. There’s a lot you wouldn’t take to know.” Harry gestured grandly as a cop-out to the actual question. “Though…. _Drake Malloy_?” He nearly snorted in amusement.

Malfoy’s glass hit the counter with a heavy sound, making his annoyance with Harry’s visit and interrogation all the more apparent.

“No Potter. You don’t get to ask me questions if you aren’t going to answer any yourself. This was a mistake.” Malfoy grumbled to himself.

Harry’s hand shot out to stop Malfoy as he made to leave.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured with sincerity. Sure, Malfoy was a bully and a git, but it had been years since they’d actually seen each other, and with Malfoy going so far as actually changing continents just to escape his legacy, Harry could only assume his changes had been more than in name alone.

Malfoy sat back down with a curt nod, but stubbornly stayed quiet - forcing Harry to walk-the-walk so to speak, and actually answer Malfoy’s question.

“I’ve never been straight. That’s just never been me. Took a while to sort myself out, but I haven’t looked back since.” Harry rushed out, quickly skimming over all the angst and heartbreak that had come with that particular self-discovery. Breaking Ginny’s heart a second and third time following all that, had been the hardest thing he’d ever done, but necessary. Especially when looking back at the destructive trail he’d left in his wake.

Harry was especially glad she’d found love in Quidditch, rather than the drug-fueled haze he currently found himself in.

“I spent the night with a guy whose name I never cared to learn, and the rest is history.”

Malfoy was pensively quiet for a moment, eyes sharp as they looked Harry over. In that millisecond - Harry felt his world quake. There was no way Malfoy would know everything Harry had gone through from a single look, and yet he was so shrewd that Harry doubted everything for a moment.

“After the war, my family was on trial for what felt like years. Father still had so many revenge-filled fantasies that they had to make a choice. Dementor’s kiss, or the new sedation alternative.”

Harry nodded along, familiar with this part of Malfoy’s story - but he didn’t interrupt for fear the former prince of Slytherin would stop talking and Harry would never know why or how he’d ended up singing in a gay bar in LA.

“Well Father was still being so stubborn and half the ministry was still pushing for the Dementor’s kiss, but Kingsley and his lot were trying to remove the Dementors - claiming it was _inhumane_ and whatnot. Long story short, he decided to take a potion that the Dark Lord had given his first line - his _preferiti_ to use a muggle term - that locked away their conscious mind until given the antidote.”

Malfoy snorted with mirthless laughter. “Jokes on him though. Turns out the only person who had any antidote to spare, or could have made more was Snape.”

Harry frowned. “What happened to the spares he had in his collection?”

Malfoy shot Harry a shit-eating grin. “Well he left every last one of his possessions to his one and only godson.”

Harry laughed and slammed his hand against the bar counter.

They spent a few minutes in strangely amicable companionship, laughing about how stupid their lives had been, and the years they spent clawing at each other’s throats simply because they’d been on different sides of the war.

It lasted a solid seven minutes.

Which given their reputation was about six minutes and thirty seconds more than anyone would have given them in the past.

Still, it wasn’t like they immediately went to jumping back down each other’s throats. No, instead Malfoy took a sip of his drink and continued to regale Harry about his grand adventure overseas.

“With Father safely under lock and key at St Mungo’s, Mother was able to retake control of the Malfoy finances and move things around to different accounts. She had an opportunity open up for her in France that I knew she was quite eager to take, but it meant leaving me behind. I didn’t want her to stay because of me, so I told her I was going to move to America and see if I could start over.”

Harry nodded, wishing he’d reached out to Narcissa at least once before. The guilt crept up again, knowing what she’d done for him in the face of pure evil. There was no doubt in Harry’s mind that she cared for her son more than anything in this life, and could see her struggling with the choice she’d been faced.

“She didn’t believe me at first, and it actually took me packing up my things and heading out the door for her to do the same. No idea what they’ve done with the manor but last I heard, there was talk of it being torn down to rebuild an orphanage or something. Honestly, they probably couldn’t salt the Earth enough to get rid of the vileness that lingers there.”

Draco shuddered visibly.

“So why LA then, of all places?” Harry prodded, finding himself strangely invested in the tale.

“Well, I don’t know how much you know about pureblood customs. But growing up, I had several tutors in a wide variety of subjects. Namely the things that would make me a better potential suitor for some of the other pureblood lines. I studied everything from managing budgets to every dance custom for every situation.”

“I mastered several instruments before I’d mastered the English language, and Mother brought me out to trot at her friends’ parties and afternoon teas. I figured that skill had to be useful somehow so I came to the one place it would likely be worth the most.”

Malfoy took a second to shoot the rest of his drink down his throat, laughter tinged with bitterness.

“Turns out it’s not worth all that much after all. Barely a living, but I get by.”

Harry pondered this. Malfoy was actually a pretty good singer, and the thought that he was selling himself short was likely limiting his possible potential.

“You’re really good though. I’m surprised you aren’t playing bigger stadiums.” Harry half spoke aloud, half against the rim of his glass.

For half a second he wondered if maybe he’d really just said it in his head, until Malfoy actually replied.

“Well that’s likely about as shocked as I can get for one night.” Malfoy laughed, shaking his head. His eyes were wide with disbelief, likely about as surprised as Harry that they were managing a conversation without throwing punches. Maybe they’d just both matured to a point that petty grudges and grievances built during a war could be set aside and the seeds of new things could grow beneath the previously tarnished soil.

“You never told _me_ why you happen to be in LA, Potter…” Malfoy raised a brow in his direction.

How long had they been at this already? To Harry, it felt like he’d just got here, but the deceptive haze he was feeling made it seem like it had actually been a few hours.

“Do you know The Switchy Snitches?” Harry felt the corner of his mouth turn up with amusement as he thought of his boys.

“Uh, yeah!? They are only the greatest band ever.” Malfoy made a noise somewhere between a shriek and a choke. Harry couldn’t have stopped the laugh if he’d tried.

“I’m kind of on tour with them right now. Well, rather, they’ve temporarily adopted me as their road puppy. Or something.” Harry scratched the back of his neck awkwardly at the nickname.

When Harry looked back over, Malfoy’s jaw was on the floor.

“You… They-...”

“They were doing sound checks this afternoon, but given how long I’ve been here for - they might actually be starting their set shortly. Wanna come with?” Harry grinned, hand scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. “If you’ve got no other plans that is.”

## \- 3 -

The night passed in lucid revelry. Being at that concert, everything they’d ever fought about faded away, leaving instead a confused state of being. They’d danced, drank, and sang along with Harry’s boys, swaying in Harry’s reserved seating - until they could barely stand, at which point Harry ushered Draco backstage to the greenroom, where they waited for the boys to come back from their encore.

The party then continued into the wee hours, moving from greenroom to club, and from club back to the hotel. Harry watched, with growing amusement, as Malfoy morphed into Draco, and Draco became the ultimate fanboy trying to hide how hard he was crushing.

The moment Harry’s arse hit a seat, Albion had claimed his lap - wrapping around Harry like a cat. Harry rolled his eyes with amusement, trailing a hand up Albion’s leather-clad thigh, while Draco listened to Arty (the band’s lead guitarist) chew out Haps for his timing on one of their songs. Haps, of course, was barely listening - having taken a hit of something in the bathroom an hour before, and was now quite settled in his high.

“You guys don’t know this but, Draco’s a bit of a singer as well.” Harry turned the tone of the conversation before Arty exploded. Of course, this had the unfortunate effect of drawing everyone’s attention on Draco, and Draco’s livid/embarrassed attention on Harry. But at this point, he was the-boy-who-was-high-off-his-socks and gave no shits.

“Is that right?” Albion murmured, teeth catching the rim of Harry’s ear.

“Ngh, yeah. He’s quite good too.” Harry closed his eyes, shivering as pleasure shot through him from the playful nips.  
  
“Would you sing something for us, Draco?” Haps suggested causally.

“I… Uh-” Draco panicked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Come now guys, don’t gang up on the poor lad.” Arty slung an arm casually around Draco’s shoulder. “I’ll play, you sing.” He grinned.

Draco whimpered, hiding his face in his hands, while Albion laughed from his perch on Harry.

“How is that ganging up on him any less?”

“Because at least there’s two of us, so the attention won’t be completely on him?” Arty grinned, taking a seat at the white piano pressed to the massive window. Draco’s cheeks were so pink, they nearly glowed, but he followed until he could lean over the piano.

Harry was sure they played something lovely, but with the way Albion’s lips trailed over his neck, he couldn’t be fucked to remember what it was. Between the drunk daze he was in, and the pressing matter in his trousers, Harry’s only thought - his only need, really - was to fuck.

## *~*~*

Even after only two hours of sleep, Harry woke feeling...refreshed. It was like someone had reset something inside of him.

The morning usually came with a sluggish, crusty feeling, and a desperation for a drug or a drink in his system. Instead, he rolled out of bed with an ease he hadn’t felt since Hogwarts, and jumped in the shower. The hot water washed away the night before, and it’s fogginess. Down the drain went the smell of alcohol that seemed permanently embedded in his skin, as well as the traces of Albion left over from their wild romp.

By the time he stepped out of the shower, Harry felt like a whole new man. He felt lighter than he had in years, and strangely excited for the day. The feeling reminded him of Quidditch training days, and heading onto the pitch to chase the Snitch. A thought popped into his head then, that made him feel beyond giddy, and made him dress faster than he had in ages. Could he chase the dawn like he’d done in his younger days?

Searching through his backpack - with magical extension charms thanks to Hermione - Harry whispered a quick ‘ _Accio Firebolt’_ and grinned when his palm wrapped around the polished handle of his favourite broom. Hoisting it over his shoulder, Harry left the bedroom - and a sprawled out Albion - and scanned the mainroom to see how much of a disaster they’d left this time. Surprisingly only one other person still occupied the space.

“You stayed?” Harry tried to keep the grin to himself, but was certain it still shone through his casual indifference.

“It was getting late and I couldn’t guarantee a safe apparition so… Yeah. Is that an issue?” Draco stood by the wide open windows, a steaming cup nestled in his hands. His cheeks were tinged pink as he stared out at the grey sky.

It was early enough that the sun hadn’t quite made a full appearance yet but it’s rays were starting to delicately touch rooftops.

“Not at all. Actually I’m surprised you’re even awake. I didn’t think anyone would be?”

“I actually didn’t sleep yet. Too much still going through my mind.”

“Oh. Um…” Harry mulled for a moment, recalling how it felt when he chased not just the snitch, but with the thrill of competition chasing his heels. “When was the last time you went flying?”

Draco blinked, head slowly turning to Harry with confusion and excitement warring across his face in equal parts.  
  


## *~*~*

The wind was both a blessing and an ally that morning. It caressed his hair like a lover, and pushed at him from behind - sending him further ahead without the work. Draco flew at his side, looking as blissful and content as Harry had ever seen him.

Draco had side-along apparated them to a predominantly Wizard community, which had heavily warded airspace for quidditch. It wasn’t anything like flying around Hogwarts - but it was the exhilarating being back on a broom and soaring through the air.

“Can I ask you something?” It had been on his mind since the first time Harry had heard Draco sing, but now burning curiosity won out.

“Mm.” Draco nodded, eyes closed and body limp as it floated through the air on his broom. He was the picture of relaxed and calm. It was oddly comforting to Harry, to know that even after the war - and all the things Draco had done - that he’d managed to find some peace within himself. At least enough peace to enjoy a sunny day on a broom. Harry wondered if he could even manage that at this point.

“You sing. And you’re good. Like, incredibly good.”

“That’s not really a question, Potter.” Draco chastised, and yet his cheeks had taken on a rather fetching shade of pink.

“Mm, getting to it.” Harry chuckled and rolled his shoulders a bit. “Why is it that you’re only singing in a bar?”

“Um… I mean, it pays the bills? Barely, but it’s better than anything else I suppose.” Draco frowned, clearly under the impression Harry was judging him for his choices.

“No! Sorry, no. That’s not what I meant. I guess I just don’t understand why you haven’t gone for something bigger? You are good enough, talented enough-”

“Is that- Are you complimenting me, Potter?!” Draco’s face read shocked, but there was a pleased if a bit mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“That is neither here, nor there.” Harry responded, feeling particularly flustered. “It was just a question. Which I’ll note that you still haven’t answered.”

Draco still didn’t answer for a few moments. Expression pensive, he looked ahead, as if towards some uncertain future. When he did finally respond, it was with a level of uncertainty and a lack of self-confidence.

“I… Don’t think I’m there yet. It’s a hard market to break into, and LA is a constant fight against someone better.”

Draco took a breath and when he continued, it was a ramble at the speed of a Hippogriff chasing it’s next meal.

“I’m decent but I’m hardly the best. And there are so many people here with the same idea. I was lucky enough to find the gig that I got. And even then it was a matter of really good timing. I was in the right place at the right time. But trying to get a different gig? I mean, I could lose what I have now, my job, my apartment, my entire livelihood. And for what? Some fake shot at greatness? Thanks but no thanks. I’m fine living a mediocre life.”

Harry burst out laughing at that, to which Draco shot him an icy glare.

“What?” Draco snapped, shifting his flight pattern to intercept Harry - who had to pull up to avoid crashing their brooms together.

“It’s just… Of all the people I pictured living a _mediocre life,_ you were not on that list.” Harry rolled his eyes, lifting his hands off his broom for a moment in order to run them through his hair, before he continued.

“I get it. I mean, the kind of life we both lived… It was _intense._ And we both needed to get away from the heaviness of it all. I am hardly the poster boy for healthy habits, Draco. But the fact is, you are hardly a _mediocre_ person. We haven’t had the best of relationships but I feel like I can say, I’ve known you long enough to know that you are so much more than what you are doing with your time right now.”

“Listen _Potter._ ” Draco spat. “I didn’t _ask_ you to come here and put your judgements on my life. I was perfectly fine before you showed up.” Draco swivelled his broom in a move that only seasoned flyers would have attempted. Which gave Harry an idea.

“Oi~ I’m just telling you what I think, but since when have you ever listened to me?” This time, Harry was the one to speed forward and intersect Draco. “Before you go, fancy a Seeker’s game?”

Harry reached into his pocket, flashing the little golden orb they’d used to fight over in their youth.

“It’s been a really long time, and we both know you were the only person who could come close to beating me in a match.”

Draco continued to hesitate, but it was clear to Harry that there weren’t that many wizards - if any - that Draco still connected with on a consistent basis, let alone ones who could challenge him in aerial combat.

“Fine. But I want you to leave after. Don’t come back to LA.”

Harry smirked.

“How about we make that part of a wager. If I lose, I’ll leave and never come back.”

Draco scoffed. “ _When_ you lose you mean.”

“And if I win, you’re going to sing something on-stage tonight.”

“WHAT?!”

“Oh did I not tell you? The boys ended up booking a second night because it sold out so fast and there was such big demand for more. So they are playing a second set tonight, and I want you to sing something tonight if I win.”

“Yeah, there’s no way in hell I’m doing that.”

“Oh? So you concede? You agree that I’m the better Seeker? Just like that? My how the mighty have fallen.”

“I did _not_ say that. You’re putting words in my mouth Potter.” Draco hissed.

“Well then, if you’re such a better player than I am, and you think you can win so easily, then the terms of the bet don’t really matter do they?”

Harry could see the flicker of conflicted emotions pass over Draco’s expression, biting down on his lip to stifle his amusement.

“Fine. But understand this Potter, _when_ I win - I don’t care if your boys are playing or not. I want you gone. And I never want to hear from you or anyone else from my past again. Got that?”

“Oh I got it. But just remember,” Harry grinned in a way that illuminated the fact that he’d once almost been sorted into Slytherin, “You have to actually _win_ against me first.”

The snitch had been released already, without Draco realizing, which meant Harry already had the edge as he caught a glimpse of it hovering just behind Draco. Launching himself forward as fast as his broom would allow, Harry laughed at the spluttered protesting about fairness behind him.

## *~*~*

The game wasn’t quite the same as having to fight against Bludgers or dodging the Quaffle being tossed from Chaser to Chaser. Nor was it at all like having to remember tactical patterns with other teammates.

It was…a funny kind of freedom trapped inside the bubble of enchantments that kept this park safe from muggles.

Once they let the conversation fade from their minds, and simply focused on the thrill of racing and chasing the Snitch, both men found themselves laughing - massive grins as bright as the sun splashed across their faces.

In the end it was so close, it truly could have been anyone’s game. Which gave Harry a greater respect for Draco’s abilities on a broom. But, in the end, Harry’s hand was the one that closed around the glittering gold treasure, meaning - as Draco quickly began to realise by the fearful look on his face - he’d be performing on stage that night. In front of thousands.

But even if he’d lost, and been forced to leave, Harry had the strangest feeling that some kinds of walls had fallen between them - and that Draco wouldn’t have made him go.

 

## \- 4 -

**[This section contains implied/referenced self-harm and moments of bad mental-health]**

 

Harry watched as Draco paced back and forth in the greenroom. His blond hair was starting to frizz, which seemed to happen when he was under a great deal of pressure - leaving Harry to wonder if some of it was his magic reacting to the stress.

Albion’s lips were stretched in a Cheshire grin, and in that moment Harry truly disliked him. A few weeks ago, Harry might have done the same thing, and relished in Draco’s discomfort. But they’d moved beyond their respective pasts, and Harry felt like he had a stake in Draco’s potential success tonight - which made Albion’s smile piss Harry off in a way that it hadn’t before.

“So, Draco-”

“Albion, don’t.” Harry chastised warningly.

But all Harry received in reply was a flicker of a sly glance in his direction, and a twitch of lips that said he wasn’t going to let this go. Draco had already whipped around to stare back and forth between Harry and Albion, which meant the lead singer knew he had the blond on his hook.

“You feeling a little nervous about tonight?” Albion’s grin turned sympathetic, but Harry knew better.

“I guess… This all just happened so fast. I’m just... Yeah.”

Harry felt even worse then, knowing he’d been the one to put Draco in this position in the first place.

“Mmm. I wouldn't worry too much. We’ve heard you sing once before and you aren’t half bad. Besides, I’ll be right there with you, so even if you screw up, I’ll cover for you.”

Harry could have strangled Albion then, but as he looked up at Draco’s expression - Harry saw a flash of his old arch nemesis. The one who stared him down in the girl’s bathroom and shouted an Unforgivable at him while Harry slashed up his chest.

“I didn’t ask for this. But you can be bloody sure _I_ won’t be the one fucking it up.” Draco hissed in reply, turning and swiftly exiting the room - Albion’s laughter following him out as if trailing him mockingly. Harry leapt out of his seat to follow Draco out the door, but not before whipping out his wand and shouted a frustrated _Crinus Muto_ at Albion’s hair - changing it from it’s usual artistically floppy brunet to a sickening shade of green, and frizzed out almost irreparably.

As Albion jumped from his chair, shrieking for a mirror and his personal assistant - Harry felt satisfied but still nowhere near the happy feelings he thought he would at that.

Instead, he focused on chasing after Draco, who’d only made it as far as the corner before having turned around to give the boys another piece of his mind. Harry would have laughed had he not already been fuming himself. Instead he grasped Draco by the arm and tugged him down the hall.

“Listen, I know he’s your friend and all, Potter, but he had no right to insinuate-”

“He’s a dick, Draco. It’s fine.”

“More than just a dick I’d say. I happen to like dicks.” Draco muttered more to himself than to Harry, but the absurdity of it made Harry double over in a wheezing laugh.

“Oh Merlin. I never knew how fucking funny you are.”

As Harry calmed, Draco leaned his back against the wall. From this spot backstage, they both could see the sea of chairs and the bodies that filled them.

“I don’t know why I thought I could do this.”

“Of course you can do this.” Harry scoffed, strangely annoyed that Albion’s words had managed to get under Draco’s skin. “Don’t listen to what that fucker said. It changes nothing. You are going to be amazing out there.”

“What are you talking about? You really think he’s still going to let me on the same stage as him now?” Draco spat venomously. Harry snorted.

“Like he has a choice. The rest of the band would revolt.” Harry smirked, knowing his boys had his back. Albion may have been a decent singer - but he’d been pushing everyone’s buttons since their gig in Paris. The only reason they tolerated him this long came down to convenience, as replacing the lead singer halfway through the tour would be… complicated.

“Listen Draco, you’re going to blow everyone’s minds tonight. Fuck Albion. Just focus on being amazing. Everything else doesn’t matter.”

 

## *~*~*

“THANK YOU L.A.!!! YOU’VE BEEN AMAZING!!!”

The sound of applause and cheering was absolutely deafening. The entire stadium were on their feet, screaming and clamouring for the band who’d just played their best set yet.

Draco had been the highlight of the concert, dazzling everyone with a voice so smooth it danced with melodies like they were lovers. Albion had managed to get the spell damage to his hair reversed, and had even seemingly had a change of heart about Draco performing. (Either that or the band had threatened to go on with Draco completely replacing him for the entire performance)

As the stage lights dimmed, Draco nearly ran from his spot on the stage - launching himself right at Harry, who held his arms wide open. Draco was yelling about the performance, about feeling high on the rush of being on stage and performing in front of so many - while Harry couldn’t even form words and was reduced to shouting incoherently. Of course, given how loud the speakers were, neither of them could really hear a thing besides the ringing in their ears.

But they were laughing, and jumping, and being absolutely wild - which was likely why Harry felt drawn to the idea of leaning in and kissing the words right off of Draco’s lips. But the moment he did - both boys stilled, pulling back in shock. There was a moment where blushes burned across both their cheeks, but as they pulled apart, Harry could see the tiniest little smile Draco was trying to bite away.

## *~*~*

Draco’s success that night launched him forward in a contract so fast they almost got whiplash. Harry had made sure Tannis had personally looked over the paperwork for Draco, then used some spells to ensure there were no shady loopholes that could potentially screw over his new friend.

By the following Thursday, Draco was in the recording studio.

Although L.A. had been the last stop in their tour, the band had decided to head back to the UK for a bit of downtime before they started up another adventure. Arty had actually let spill his intention of proposing to his boyfriend the moment they landed, which was a moment filled with celebratory popping of champagne and promises to visit for the wedding and so on.

But by the next afternoon the boys and their manager were gone, leaving a strange sense of longing inside Harry. He’d never expected that he’d miss them as much as he did, especially considering Harry could have left at any point and never looked back.

But now he was forced to decide what his next step would be, which meant looking beyond more than a day or two in advance. It had been a while since his last drug haze, and he could feel the itch travelling up his forearms. But then Draco would turn his way and shoot him an excited smile - sending the itch packing.

During the first week of recording, Harry wasn’t sure how long he was welcome to stay for - but he figured he might as well look for a bit less temporary place to stay than a hotel.

When he mentioned this to Draco, the blond scoffed.

“Why don’t you just stay at my place? It’s not like I’m there all that much anyways these days.”

“Uh… What?” Harry blinked, astonished.

“Was I not clear? I asked you to move in.” Draco enunciated slowly, smirk twitching at the corner of his lips.

Harry rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the grin on his face.

“What’s next, prat? You gonna ask me to marry you too?”

“You wish.” Draco laughed, turning his attention back to the switchboard where they were playing back his song.

## *~*~*

 

The move took less than a minute, considering Harry really only carried a single shrinkable trunk with him. He’d taken over the space in Draco’s fold-out couch for now, but the lack of space made Harry wonder why Draco had offered its use in the first place. This kind of take-over was not ideal for a permanent situation, and eventually Harry knew they would need something more - otherwise they ran the risk of being _too_ in each other’s space.

Of course, late at night - while curled beneath a blanket, and desperately scratching at his forearms as a way of coping with his withdrawal, part of Harry’s mind wandered into Draco’s bedroom and wondered what it would feel like to crawl in bed with the blond - how easy it would be to just slide beneath the undoubtedly silken sheets, and press himself to Draco’s likely warm body.

But thoughts like that were only trouble. They had a functional friendship, and even that was still fairly new - better to not rock the boat when they were barely figuring out how to row.

The problem was - even though Harry had made a complete one-eighty in life as he helped Draco propel himself into a music career - for every step forward Draco seemed to make, Harry took an equal sized step back.

It started small, with just a shift in his moods. Draco spent most of his waking hours at the studio, just recording until his voice was raw - and with the vocal coaches on any other time he was not promoting the upcoming album.

There were press conferences, radio and tv spots, even days spent modeling for photographers for everything from cover art to magazine spots. At first, Harry filled his time with doing things from the sidelines - managing and orchestrating what he could with the contacts he had thanks to Tannis.

But when there was nothing left he could do, Harry found himself pacing the apartment, and getting frustrated with simple things like clothes out of their hamper, or dishes in the sink. He never took it out on Draco of course, because he knew it wasn’t the blond’s fault. But the itchy feeling started coming back more often, until Harry had to start wearing long sleeve shirts again to hide the deep scratches and mess of scabs.

Draco never noticed, or if he did, he never made a note of mentioning it. Maybe he knew better than to bring it up. Maybe he could sense the tension building between them too and that at some point they’d hit a breaking point, but neither wanted that. Not when, even with the sellotape and cardboard walls holding them in place, they seemed to be on the precipice of something pretty fantastic.

More than once, they’d found themselves close enough that personal space wasn’t a thing, and lips had very much wanted to press to lips, only for one of them to cough awkwardly and turn away and leave.

## *~*~*  
  


The night of Draco’s first live performance, exactly four months to the day since his stage performance with Albion, everything came to a head.

The stage was smaller than the stadium The Switchy Snitches had packed, but even given that, the room still filled an easy three hundred - and every seat was packed. Not even standing room was left.

They’d been teasing this album for a while now in all the best circuits, and Draco’s stage name had quickly become common place on the most influential lips in the music industry. This performance was meant to follow the release of his first single, with an album and a tour to follow within the next few months. Of course, all of that hinged on this performance. The one all the best of the best had been invited to.

Tannis had tried describing the significance of the names invited to Harry, but it had blown right passed him. Harry had never been one for knowing or even caring about names - especially if it meant having to play a part for them. But this wasn’t about him, this was for Draco, and Merlin help him if he managed to fuck this up for him when they were this close to success. Well, when Draco was this close - Harry often reminded himself.

The lights dimmed in the main room, while a single beam honed in on the piano center stage. Draco entered from the wings, smiling coyly at the audience, drawing them in the same way he’d managed to pull Harry in.

As the first few chords of a melody filled the room, Harry closed his eyes and let the song carry him away. He could imagine Draco singing an anthem to the past him, a toast to his friends and memories long ago.

Harry could hear the choked way certain words came out, as Draco sang. But even with the heaviness of memories pressing in on him, the entire audience was completely captivated - hanging on every word, every note even. He was a siren trapping them in their seats, every eye was on him - and fuck if he hadn’t earned it.

As he played the last note, Draco was startled by a rather loud and almost crazed response. Applause, foot stomping, cheering, catcalling, and shouting came at Draco from all directions.

His wicked mood far behind him, Harry couldn’t help but grin from his spot - well hidden in the wings of stage right. Draco turned to make his exit, eyes bright and trained on Harry. The moment came again, just before Draco reached Harry - where they stared at each other with a tingling of excitement and longing.

The adrenaline coursed through them both, high off of the stellar performance, but Draco looked like he couldn’t hold back anymore. He launched himself at Harry, wrapping his lengthy legs around Harry’s waist, while searing their lips together in a fiery kiss.

Harry groaned, slipping his hands beneath Draco’s thighs and grasping him firmly - all while walking them to the nearest wall in order to press Draco’s back into it.

Draco pulled back from the kiss lightly, looking up into Harry’s eyes with a sharp glance.

“Did you… take something tonight?”

Harry blinked past the lusty fog clouding his mind - though it didn’t stop his hips from continuing to grind into Draco’s.

“Not tonight. Not for a while actually…” Harry quirked up one side of his lips. He was harder than he’d ever been with Albion, though he was certain part of that had to do with the fact that this was _Draco_. This was years in the making. Years of repressed feelings, of a war tearing them apart, and forcing them on opposite sides of something that shouldn’t even have involved them in the first place. This kiss… It was the kind of kiss that could have happened in their youth, but instead it was here and now.

Harry focused on that thought as he dove in once more, memorizing the touch of every inch of Draco’s skin and how it felt against his lips.

Taking a quick look around to ensure the coast was clear, Harry apparated them both back to Draco’s apartment, slamming Draco’s back into the wall once more. They never made it to the bedroom, instead stripping out of layers of clothing right there in the hall.

For all the months of dancing around each other, it suddenly felt like they had no time to wait. Harry murmured a quick protection spell, while Draco took care of slicking his insides with a lubrication charm. Barely a moment later, Harry had Draco hoisted around his hips again, and was plunging in with heavy grunts and passionate desperation.

It wasn’t going to last for long, and they both seemed to sense that - with the way Harry was biting at Draco’s lower lip while the kissed, and Draco had his hand wrapped around himself, stroking so fast his fist was a blur - which only made them more desperate. Their noises were hushed in their little bubble, more desperate panting and quiet grunts over loud moans and screams, and yet it seemed that much more arousing because of the intensity with which they went at it.

Mere minutes after starting, Harry growled a warning to Draco, then pulled out as he started to shoot streams of come to the floor. He continued to grind against Draco’s cheeks, the stimulation enough to keep him in blissful orgasm state a few more seconds.

Draco took a few extra minutes, but mostly due to being distracted by Harry’s lips on his neck and ears. When he finally came, he shot so hard it hit over his shoulder and on the wall behind him.

Coming down from the intensity, both boys panted harshly into each other’s space - neither quite willing to let go just yet. Rather than having to eventually, Harry slipped the rest of the way out of his trousers, using one foot to step out of the legs, then proceeded to walk them both to the bedroom.

## *~*~*

 

The spent most of the night wrapped around each other, fucking, talking, or by the time shades of pink and soft yellow began cresting through the blinds, just kissing softly.

But as the morning came, so did the phone calls on Draco’s cell. The blond hopped out of bed right away, fielding call after call from his manager and publicist and Merlin knew who else, answering for his disappearance after the concert, accepting compliments and praise for his performance, and promising he’d be at the studio shortly.

Harry wanted to be happy for Draco, he really did, but there was a level of resentment that was starting to creep in beneath the happy glow. It had been there for a while, festering under the surface like a poisoned seed, but was making it’s return now.

“I’ll be back soon!” Draco grinned at him, leaving a gentle kiss to Harry’s forehead before rushing out the bedroom while pulling on clothes.

Harry sighed as he heard the door slam shut.

Alone again, with nothing more than his thoughts to keep him company. His brain pecked and prodded at his discomfort, reminding him that he really wasn’t needed here, he was useless and his only real skill was going after bad people. Well that and consuming drugs at an alarming rate…

Harry sat up in bed, ripping the sheets off himself in a hurry. He recalled Haps having left him a little parting gift, though he couldn’t really remember where. The last thing he remembered was putting them in one of his jean pockets…

Within ten minutes, Harry had quite literally torn Draco’s place apart. Chairs and tables had been overturned, boxes and other storage bins had been emptied and strewn all over the place with a quick Leviosa, even the bedroom was in shambles, with clothes in piles everywhere and the bed mattress on it’s side.

Harry sat with his back pressed against the same place he’d fucked Draco the night before, his head in his hands, breathing shallowly. How had it gotten this bad without him noticing?

He thought back to his youth, wondering if he would have ever imagined his life turning out like this? So deeply addicted that he’d destroyed his… what was Draco even to him? Were they boyfriends? Fuck buddies? Harry hated himself in that moment.

Boyfriends didn’t do shitty things like destroy their partner’s apartment to find a missing bag of drugs. Boyfriends didn’t chase after a high their partner couldn’t give them. Boyfriends didn’t hate their partner for not including them in every aspect of their lives. Harry wasn’t a boyfriend. He wasn’t even a friend. He was being a shitty leech and it had to stop.

If he wanted any kind of shot with Draco, he knew he needed to stop pretending he was fine, and like the past never happened. He needed to find a way to finally move past the horrors of yesterday, before he could allow himself to imagine a future. Especially a future with Draco.

What had taken ten minutes to destroy, took most of the day to tidy again. He could have used magic, easily, but doing everything by hand felt like a kind of penance.

Once everything was tidy again, Harry packed up his few things in his trunk and pulled out two sheets of paper. The first was a letter to Draco, explaining the very conclusions he’d come to, the need to recover before starting something together, how dark a place his mind had been… Folding it in half, Harry left it on Draco’s pillow.

On the second paper, Harry wrote less than two lines, carrying it with him to the portkey office he’d located with Tannis’ help. He’d send it by owl the moment he arrived back in the UK, but for now he focused on getting the hell out of L.A.

 

_Neville. I’m coming back, but please don’t let anyone else know just yet. I have some things I need to work through, and I need your help… HP_

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of "Lights, Camera, Drarry" (LCDrarry), a film-, TV- and theatre-inspired Drarry fest.  
>  Creations are posted anonymously during the posting period. The creators will be revealed on [tumblr](http://lcdrarry.tumblr.com) and [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/LCDrarry2019/works) on 15 June.


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